Whenever I think of endives, I think of the year I spent in France.
During my junior year of college, I studied in Paris, at the Institute of Political Science, or Sciences-Po, as they called it. While there, my classes were entirely in French – it being a french university and all. I even took a Russian language course: nothing beats learning a foreign language in a different foreign language.
For the first semester, all of the international students – and there were a few hundred – went to lecture with the native French students, but then had smaller discussion groups among themselves. The idea was to allow us to develop our French skills sufficiently, so that we could be fully immersed in the regular discussion groups by second semester. It also allowed us a chance to meet the fellow international students struggling to learn the History of the Second Republic in French.
My Russian class, however, was the one class …
